from Sissy Maid Veronique

Dear Auntie Helga,

As a child, I never really felt secure in my masculinity. I was a timid, gentle boy, and I was really close with my mother and my big sister, Madison. Madison would dress me up in her old party dresses and princess costumes, and I looked so exquisite in them! She was quite the stylist, and I was her living doll. When I was nine, we even had a princess tea party with some of her old stuffed animals. But after our father (who was very old fashioned and wanted me to be more like other boys) caught us in the act, he got angry and called me and Madison horrible, demeaning names. I was so ashamed that I swore off frilly things entirely, and grew distant from Madison.

I spent the next five years trying to be tough and masculine, and fell in with the wrong crowd. My "friends" throughout middle and high school were all boorish cads at best, and at their worst they were racist, sexist pigs. I got pressured into doing dumb increasingly stupid and disgusting things, and my grades and relations with the rest of my family suffered. All the while, I still harbored the feeling of wanting to be soft and sweet, and secretly browsed sites about petticoating and feminization (yours was my favorite!)

But eventually, a turning point (well, two turning points) came shortly before my 14th birthday. First, mother divorced my father, who had been cheating on her, and he was no longer a significant part of my life. It was her house, her rules, and I was at her mercy. Second, the final straw that finally got me punished for my behavior. My school was having an assembly on women's rights, and the speaker was a nice lady from Pakistan who was a victim of human trafficking. But my "friends" and I disrupted the assembly by yelling horrible things and tasteless unfunny jokes at her, and the other kids eventually got so fed up with us that they had to temporarily stop the assembly to drag us out.

Me and my soon-to-be-ex "friends" were each given a week's suspension, and my mother was furious. But Madison had a plan. She knew I was secretly pining for the days when she would dress me up in frilly outfits, and after checking my browsing history, she had found Petticoat Discipline Quarterly. So, they made a decision: for the next week, I was gonna be a maid!

At first, I tried to defy their order. But Madison was an expert in sewing, and whipped me up a scrumptious French Maid outfit... with a pair of old fashioned bloomers, which I had always wanted to wear. It was so beautiful that I cried! I couldn't not wear this! So, my maid duty began, but before that, Madison made me swear an oath to remind me of my place:

"I am a servant, a friend to all, a threat to none. I serve because I care in an uncaring world. Above all else, I am a servant of my soul"

That week was the best week of my life-- I discovered the joy of serving others. The house was cleaner than it had ever been, and I became closer to Madison and my mother. It was supposed to end after the week was up, until I realized how much better I felt. I felt like I was becoming who I really was, after burying it under. The day I came back to school, we had a meeting with the principal over my behavior. My mother explained everything about my punishment... and as it turned out, the principal had practiced petticoating on her son and grandson!

I wrote the lady who I had disrupted an apology letter. It said that I had deeply regretted what I had done, I was pressured into it, and that thanks to my sister and mother's punishment, I deeply understood the problems that women face under male chauvinism. She wrote back to me, saying "I accept your apology, and am glad that you were able to acknowledge your privileges. You are a thoughtful young man, and you should thank your parents for your punishment!" I still keep the letter.

I kept working on my maid job on weekends, working on houses around the neighborhood. Turned out I was really good at it, since I got tipped heavily! It was on one of those maid jobs that one of my clients, who was from France, gave me a nickname-- Veronique. I loved that name so much that I started to call it "my true name". My ex-friends wanted nothing to do with me, my grades went up, and I got better friends who appreciated how thoughtful and sensitive I was. They even encouraged me to start transitioning to a woman, and with their help, I got my name changed to Veronique. I eventually graduated with honors, and have just started college on a gender studies degree-- along with my duties as a maid. (My dorm is the cleanest on campus!)

So, I'd just like to say thank you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be where I am: a pretty, caring, and bubbly young lady who knows her path in life. I only wish more boys got to experience petticoating for themselves.

Sissy Maid Veronique

Thank you for your letter Sissy Maid Veronique. What a reprehensible thing to do that woman who had suffered so badly, your punishment and eventual enlightenment because of petticoating is a perfect example of its power. There was also your inner femininity driving your acceptance of being the family maid, also not unusual for success, this often leads young males to my site seeking understanding of their feelings, I am so pleased to learn how much it helped in your case.

Auntie Helga

Return to Index
Letter 10